Teeming or Tottering ?

H&B Minervois

There’s every reason to be perplexed by wine vocabulary. In any form of sense, adjectives like, “angular, backward, dumb and ponderous” are just some of the more interesting keywords. However referential you like to be, it is nothing that requires consistent rumination; funny though, considering that the term “classless” seems to erupt out of your mouth if you’re without the arsenal proper. Maybe for once, I am willing to agree that describing something puritanically liquid, is somewhat difficult; that is, depending on the origin of its containment. Often, we are confronted with a lack of understanding wine, because we just don’t have the time to consult Merriam-Webster every time we tilt our glasses to absorb the pure lusciousness. Perhaps the true luxuries of the world need no positive, or negative buzzwords attached to them in order to formally describe what we have enjoyed for centuries. Off the record, I think laughing out loud has been the defining principle for me, when I loosely ponder what “Barnstable” means. I would attribute these jovial fits of mine, to somehow outline the metaphysical nightmares one could have, if they simply think of “horses, cowpies and farmers” as discernable nuance. For all of the worldly grape lots and sunshine, I would bet that the sort of tabloid interest in creating such a stink of wordiness, would almost appear to be somewhat animalistic.

But what about “Balance?” that word makes undeniable sense, no matter if it pours into, or out of your mouth. Getting to know it, should all be manageable in due time, if you know your producers, or participate in the remedial sport of wine diving. It is still one of the more difficult terms to understand, because everyone is entitled to an opinion. However, for less than a minute, let’s try to extricate this common term. Take for instance, tannins, acidity, fruit, weight, and yes, the conceptual nuances. They should all work very well in unison, partaking in an almost democratic function on our palates, without any one trace of each seeking potential dominance. We’re not looking for highly extracted, or insignificant pips of fruit notes, but there has to be something practical suggested within your glass. Oddly, I have witnessed too often, the study of equilibriums in Pinot Noir, so much in fact, it's been nearly ‘ad hoc’in its astuteness. What I would feel so content to say, is that most people should find the one bottle that makes the most sense for them. Money has a big part in deciding the overall “finesse” you receive, but could I be incorrect myself, by so abrasively using the “F-Word” on this blogsite.

My interpretation is, that subtle tannins in your tea, are good tannins in wine. Weight is marginal, and “medium-to-full bodied” is where I draw the line. Acidity may be construed as “brightness” and could be, in other words, inconspicuously hidden. We’re certainly looking for complexities, but not a closed fist aimed far beyond the reaches of our palate. Fine, knock me out, but just enough so that I don’t lose my focus, or something much, much worse. For example, I don’t want to partake in the same remorse others have, especially when good capital is spent on young, lackluster wine. That’s the only drawback to this idea of tempering the values of fermentation in order to succeed in creating “balanced” end products. If it’s worth it to you, I have made a couple of discoveries that may describe what all of this really indicates. Take for instance,
“Bookster Chardonnay;” a milestone, heaven willing, in Californian viticulture that stresses the in-between factor in developing focused whites. Now, you probably have visions of butter churning and pie apples

Bookster Chard

baking; ah, but as I have seen with two vintages now,  it is surely going to be an artful picture. It doesn’t diverge too much from notes of tree fruits and lactic undulations, but the savory and sweet notes do not seem concentrated and packed into a corner. It is with good reason, one I obsess over, just due to the fact that I have been overwhelmed by wispy-thin, citric Chards that actually feel like liquid grenades inside my mouth. I’ll leave the negativity of these ill-endorsed whites to the past, but I have to say their flintiness and sulfuric backgrounds are pretty similar to explosives and their potential for creating residue. Red though, is different. For me, it is my closest vice and it always will be. However, I am currently amused with something new. Hecht & Bannier’s, “Minervois” was mainly surprising, if not effectual in its sense of equality. Expanding on that, I really thought that a Rouge considered to be somewhat “Meaty” could be anything but finessed. Somehow, beyond spiciness, pitchy dried fruits and the overall sanguine nature of the bottle, it all came together. The herbal notes were an interesting touch also, with Syrah, Grenache and Carignan awarded for good philanthropy. A pity for the pricey, reticent vintages the world over, which test your patience and the P.S.I of your wallet.          

Don’t get me wrong, everyone can whittle away at their own beliefs, or even mine. I have an idea as to what makes a great bottle regardless of what the interpretative nature of wine, or what the attached vocabulary can allow. Even dissecting what “balance” means in the end, is somewhat indefinite for those who are practitioners, or participants in the enjoyment thereof. References are always helpful, but if “precocious, tarried, leafy, unctuous, spritzy, fun and matchstick” are proper terms, then maybe, I should come up with some of my own.           

Do words like “dishabille, poopy, sycophantic, fuddy-duddy, or yolky, offer any insights?

-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

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